


Two Is Company, Three's A Crowd

by Beelsebutt



Series: The Third Wheel [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fear of Homophobia, Infidelity, Love Triangles, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 15:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1784047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beelsebutt/pseuds/Beelsebutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fact that Ron was here, in the Burrow, still felt more like a dream than reality, and Harry was afraid that if he said the wrong words, Ron would disappear again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Translation betas: Cloudy (0–1) & ladyrayne13 (3) & Misery-Loathes-Company (4—)  
> Original story: [Kahden kauppa, kolmannen korvapuusti](http://epakelpo.livejournal.com/58113.html) (in Finnish)
> 
>  
> 
>  **A/N:** TICTAC is a sequel to [Without Grace](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1740299), and it begins maybe TEN MINUTES after WG's epilogue! It's been two years since Ron left. Chapters are mainly PG-13. Still, if there is NC-17 material in a chapter, there will be also a PG-13 rated version available. Please, note the warnings in the beginning of each chapter!
> 
>  
>
>> This story is AU in the sense that Fred, Tonks and Remus are alive but George & Percy are dead. There is no Teddy, nor is there the marriage of Tonks/Remus. It really doesn't matter; the story concentrates on relationships, there is really not so much plot in this :P Oh, Harry's an Auror, but Ron's not. Should I also warn you about top!Harry?
> 
>  
> 
> (fyi, I started writing this story before Deathly Hallows was published, so it's only a coincidence that canon-wise it was Fred, not George, who was lost during the war...)
> 
>  
> 
> **Disclaimer! I do not own the Potters, J.K. Rowling does. Nor do I own the song mentioned here. I'm not making any money with this, so don't sue!**
> 
>  
> 
>  

**Chapter Rating: PG-13**

  
**Prologue**   


 

The orchestra began a new piece, but Harry was still sitting aside from the partying guests. His unseeing eyes were fixed on the dancers, but he didn't see them. Not really. He did become aware, though, as someone came to stand beside him. He shot the person an uninterested glance, but as he recognized the gaunt man draped in a gray cloak, he could do nothing but keep staring at him in a shock.

"Ron..."

Ron only looked at Harry from the corner of his peripheral vision.

"Hi," he said with a bleak voice.

"What... I mean, how... umm, what are you doing here?" Harry stammered. He was almost certain he was hallucinating, because how could Ron really be here? Harry's pulse raced.

"I got an invitation, too," he said shortly.

Harry didn't know what to say. Ron wasn't keen on continuing the discussion, either — not before he noticed Hermione and Fred appearing from amongst the dancing guests on the floor.

"Well, at least they look happy," he said in a voice that was neither bitter nor happy. Resigned, Harry decided.

"Y-yes," Harry admitted after glimpsing the dance floor himself.

Ron lowered his eyes and stood still, not knowing what to say or do. Coming to the wedding had been a major step for him, but he was still unsure about whether he was ready for it or not. Here he was, inside the white marquee standing in front of his old home, filled with the closest people he had; and yet, he felt like he shouldn't be here. He kept shifting weight from one foot to the other.

Harry stared at Ron unabashedly, still not quite believing his eyes. There were thousands of questions whirling inside his head: was Ron still mad at him? Where had he been these last two years, and most importantly, had he come to stay? Before he had voiced any of the questions aloud, Ron took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I guess it was worth it, then."

He shrugged and turned away, slipping out the same way he had come in. Harry leapt to his feet and ran after him.

"Wait for me!" Harry shouted after getting out. Ron stopped but didn't turn around. Harry hesitated. What would he say? What could he say that he hadn't said before?

"Why... I mean, how've you been?" he finally uttered, then swore under his breath — really clever.

Ron turned, though, and there was a smile on his face. Just a tiny one, but nevertheless, it made Harry's breathing a bit easier.

"Better," Ron answered, pulling his cloak tighter around him. "I mean, that's not really much when you think about how messed up I was then."

Harry's eyes widened.

"I mean, I got pretty scared," Ron continued, glancing nervously at Harry, "And ended up getting help."

"That's great!" Harry exclaimed and took a couple of steps closer.

"Yeah, it is," Ron admitted, drawing himself up. "How 'bout you?"

Harry opened his mouth, but froze, as from inside the marquee, there came loud laughter. He glanced at the opening, but looked hurriedly back at Ron, afraid that if he stopped staring at him, Ron could disappear any minute.

"Wanna go to the swings?" Ron asked, his eyes darting around at the figures looming behind the white cloth. "I'm not in the mood for explaining everything to everyone."

Harry nodded quickly and followed Ron to the maple trees standing at the end of the yard. Arthur had put up three swings on their branches years ago. The weather was crisp for June, but the excitement bubbling inside Harry kept him warm.

Ron was here!

They sat next to each other for a moment. Ron took a go on the swing, then hoisted his legs up, letting it sway back and forth.

"How was the wedding?" he finally asked.

"Okay, I guess. They both said the right names, and neither of them lost the ring."

Ron chuckled, turning his eyes finally at Harry who had been staring at him the whole time. It made Ron anxious but felt strangely thrilling at the same time.

Harry's starched, white shirt shone brightly amidst the dusky night. Ron also registered the loosened, golden tie and the opened collar underneath it — as well as the pale strip of skin that was clearly visible beneath. Harry didn't have a cloak but was dressed in a dark Muggle suit. His jacket was unbuttoned, and the silk-lined lapels rose up as he grabbed the swing ropes. Between them, Ron could see the belt encircling Harry's narrow hips, and its buckle that carried the Auror logo (the letter A formed by two wands, and the words "Great Britain" as a crossbar).

Harry cleared his throat, and Ron's eyes darted at Harry's, which were still fixed on him. For a second, they stared at each other, and then Ron lowered his eyes again.

Harry tormented his brain, trying to figure out something to talk about. What had Ron asked him before?

"Oh, yeah," he remembered at last. "I'm fine. Working mostly."

He wanted to tell Ron how miserable he had been, but couldn't find the courage. The fact that Ron was here, in the Burrow, still felt more like a dream than reality, and Harry was afraid that if he said the wrong words, Ron would disappear again. But Ron just nodded, and it seemed like he understood also the parts that Harry had not said aloud.

"Still with the Ministry?"

"Yeah. You?"

"I got a job at a Youth Centre in Leeds," Ron said. "They said at St Mungo's that I should have something to do during the days. And it's been nice, even if the kids sometimes drive me mad."

"St Mungo's?" Harry startled.

"I mean, my mind healer recommended it," Ron explained, confirming Harry's suspicions.

"Okay," Harry said, still staring at Ron.

"The mind healer I'm seeing... Well, he thought I'd be ready for this." Ron fell silent. He opened his mouth to continue, but closed it again. Harry waited. "Actually... Well, of course I wanted to see Ginny and the rest of the lot, but really, I came here to see you," Ron said in a voice that diminished so much by the end of the sentence that Harry had to strain his ears to hear the rest. "I mean... I wanted to... I mean..."

Suddenly Harry had trouble breathing.

"Ron?" he said uncertainly. Ron raised his eyes. "I'm sorry," Harry continued, "I mean about what happened. I should have never..."

"And I'm sorry, too," Ron cut in. "About what I said. I didn't really mean..."

"You don't have to..." this time it was Harry who interrupted, and they both went quiet, staring at each other. Then Ron's lip twitched, and Harry grinned.

"We're both sorry, right?" Ron said, bursting into loud laughter.

Harry chuckled once, but then fell silent. He stared hungrily at the laughing Ron. It was a sight he had especially missed during the horrible years. It didn't take long before Ron, too, noticed the change in the atmosphere. He glanced at Harry, but averted his eyes again.

"You still live in Leeds?" Harry asked quickly.

"Yeah, but my lease is up in a week. I thought of coming back to London. I don't have a place yet, but I guess I can sleep at Cal's for a few days. Just so I can search for a place of my own without having to rush."

"You can come to my place. I have an extra room," Harry blurted out, before thinking it any further. "I mean... Cal has only one bedroom."

Ron looked at Harry surprised, but then he smiled. "Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks mate."

He opened his mouth to continue telling Harry everything he had figured out during the long therapy sessions, and what he had remembered, but he was interrupted.

"Harry!"

A man wearing a kilt and a Prince Charlie was walking across the yard towards them. His shoulder-length, curly hair was flying in every direction. It was as red as the couple inches of beard he had on his chin. And, as the man got nearer, Ron saw that he was wearing a golden tie, like Harry's. Ron didn't recognize the man, but then again, he only knew half of the wedding guests.

At first, the shout had startled Harry, but now he was smiling at the advancing man. Harry grabbed the hand he offered and got up. Ron rose, too, furrowing his brow. The man was nearly as tall as him, and subconsciously Ron drew to his full height, squaring his shoulders.

"Ron, this is William MacGregor. Billy, Ron Weasley, an old friend of mine."

"How ar ye?" Billy rumbled, holding his hand to Ron. After a fast hand-shake, Ron threw a questioning look at Harry.

"Billy's my boyfriend," Harry explained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy who? Well, definitely not Bill Weasley, I'm sure we can agree on that. Billy's my Own Character (OC) who looks like [this](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jyaPgBLsGCI/TzLu9Jl1KmI/AAAAAAAABNM/Y4J-jLTOTsU/s1600/alalas.jpg), and wearing a suit, could also look like [this](http://www3.images.coolspotters.com/photos/310984/alexi-lalas-profile.jpg) (please, notice the golden tie, but be informed that in this story Billy has both longer hair and beard!). The pictures are from Alexi Lalas, an ex-football (soccer) player from USA. In my opinion, he's hot enough to represent Billy perfectly : D
> 
> And Cal? He's also an OC, and you'll find more about him, too, if you read [Without Grace](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1740299). To put it shortly: Cal's a Muggle who used to work with Ron. He's a humorous fellow who could look like [this](http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3581/3512391261_1c7a77562a.jpg). Btw. Cal's straight ;)
> 
> _Please, notice that I'm not implying the characters in this story has anything to do with the persons in the pictures — I just think they LOOK the same._
> 
> Oh, Harry's belt buckle. There's a story there, too. I asked my artistic friend to draw it for me. [This](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/116592845/12801669) is how she pictured it, and I have to agree with her! :) Isn't it weird that there's no official Auror logo? There's a logo for the Ministry of Magic in the movies, but not for Aurors O.o
> 
>  


	2. The Git, the Sod, and the Macho Scot

**Chapter Rating: PG-13**

 

  
**Chapter 1: The Git, the Sod, and the Macho Scot**   


 

Ron was standing behind Harry's door trying to find the courage to knock. He swore under his breath. It had felt natural, even ideal to accept Harry's generous invitation, especially now as he knew what he knew. But he should have realised that Harry wasn't the kind of a person to stay single for two years. He was with _Billy_ now. With _Billy_ who had behaved like he owned Harry, wrapping his arms around him right in front of Ron's old home. _Billy_ who had taken the news about Harry's future subtenant with excitement and enthusiasm, not showing any signs of jealousy, even though Ron would be living under Harry's roof.

Ron shook his head. It was true: he posed no threat. Harry had clearly gotten over him and continued on with his life. And now it was Ron who would have to stand aside and watch Harry spending time with his boyfriend.

A muffled clank behind the door startled Ron. He knocked immediately, afraid that Harry was coming out and would find him just loitering there. When the door opened, Ron's carefully plastered smile faltered; it was Billy standing in front of him, not Harry.

"Welcome!" Billy exclaimed and grabbed Ron's trunk, pulling it inside without further ado. Then, he stepped aside making room for Ron. He was wearing a wide-sleeved linen shirt, and a red-and-green squared kilt. His flaming red hair was tied, and Ron noticed that he had small, golden hoops in both of his ears. A handle of a wand stuck out from his long sock, making it clear that he was, in fact, a wizard.

Ron avoided Billy's gaze by looking around the airy vestibule. He was surprised how large it was. From outside, the house appeared to be much smaller and darker. Then he glanced up at the ceiling and snorted as he noticed that it was bewitched to look like the sky above it. Someone chuckled, and Ron turned his head to see Harry leaning against the doorway looking relaxed, his arms crossed on top of his chest.

"Welcome," he said, smiling, but didn't make any move towards Ron.

"Thank you," Ron answered and smiled, too, even though he was feeling very uncertain. There was something off with the atmosphere.

"Come, I'll show you where your room is," Harry said after a moment. He nodded briefly to Billy, before turning around. Ron glanced at Billy, too.

"No worries, I'll bring yer trunk up soon," Billy rumbled, patting Ron on his shoulder.

"I can do it mys—" Ron began, but Billy just waved him off.

"Go! Harry wants ta show yeh yer room."

Harry waited in the kitchen, gnawing his bottom lip, but straightened up as soon as Ron stepped under the arch.

"You mind if I show you around?" Harry hesitated. "Or are you tired? Do you want to lie down or something?"

"A tour sounds good," Ron answered quickly. Harry looked nervous, but Ron couldn't relax either, knowing that Billy's eyes were on them.

"Okay," Harry complied. He led Ron to the living room. "I guess you noticed already that I've had some Extension Charms cast here."

"Some," Ron chuckled, taking in the vast area. "It's almost as big as the Gryffindor common room back in Hogwarts — just missing the fireplace."

Harry's cheeks flushed, and he glanced at Ron from the corner of his eye.

"Actually..."

He guided Ron further in and waved his hand towards the distending corner at the back of the room. There was a loveseat and a high fireplace where flames erupted as soon as Harry's hand pointed at them. Ron flinched.

"Oops," Harry yelped and turned off the fire with a flick of his wand. "I'm only beginning to master wandless magic, and sometimes the house doesn't quite know what I want. Or I'll just get too excited. Well, anyways, there's Floo Powder in that jar, and the fireplace is one-way only, so no one can come through, unless they are invited.

Ron was momentarily staggered. For the last years, he had used his wand only to Apparate between London and home, whereas Harry could do wandless magic. He tried to convince himself that Harry had been working as an Auror for years now and was clearly comfortable with his home, but couldn't quite do it. They were in such a different places with their lives. It brought also another issue forth: Harry had found his dream job, while Ron didn't have a clue of what to do with his life.

"...and if you want to watch the telly, it's right there," Harry kept on explaining. Ron snapped back, blinking his eyes, and glanced at the flat, grey screen towards which all the sofas where facing.

Harry scanned the room, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Okay, well... Maybe we'd better go upstairs, then."

Harry went to the stairs, which started from the corner of the living room, with Ron following right behind him. Harry's black robe hugged his hips before widening down with invisible folds. Ron couldn't help but notice how Harry's buttocks clenched and un-clenched with every step he took, shaped clearly from underneath the cloth. There was a tingling feeling in Ron's stomach.

"Naturally, this house is Unplottable. And did I mention that I'm the sole Secret Keeper myself? I guess, we'd better put Molly up on the list, too," Harry was going on about as he reached the second floor. Ron pricked his ears.

"Who else's on it?"

"Well, Billy of course, and... and... Hermione and Fred," Harry confessed eventually, biting his lip. "Have you talked with them yet?"

Ron shook his head. After Ginny's wedding, he had concentrated only on the fact that he'd promised to move in with Harry, without knowing about his boyfriend. Ron had yet to get so far as even considering seeing his mother.

Harry opened the second door on the left and stepped into the room. Ron followed, whistling to himself as he saw all the space.

"So, this is the _guest_ room?" His voice was thick with sarcasm.

"Yes," Harry quipped without looking at him. "The bathroom is downstairs, and the loo is next door in the hallway. Oh, there's another loo downstairs, so we don't have to wrestle about it. And... and... I've cleared away that," Harry continued, pointing at the walnut cabinet which was even taller than Ron.

"You didn't have to; I can perfectly well live from the trunk—"

"There was just some old stuff from Hogwarts. They can be in the cellar, too," Harry interrupted. Suddenly, he turned around and stared Ron right in the eye. "Ron, I have to ask you... Billy doesn't bother you, does he?"

Ron was taken aback. Had Harry noticed this soon how much he disliked Billy?

"I guess it has to be okay since you didn't cancel the deal. I mean... If you still think I'm a freak..." Harry continued.

Ron froze. "No! Listen, mate, I'm sorry about—"

"I know, you said already," Harry reminded and grinned. Ron smiled too, automatically, but wanted to explain nevertheless.

"I did, but really, I want to apologize properly. I was just so confused and angry—"

"For a reason," Harry mumbled and flinched as Ron laid a hand on his shoulder.

"It's no reason to say something like that. And, I want you to understand it."

For a while, Harry stared at Ron. Then, he nodded. "I'm happy to hear it."

Still, Ron didn't remove his hand. He wasn't finished yet.

"When I... when I said... well, what I said," he continued. "I just didn't know. Or didn't understand. Or whatever, but what I wanted to say was that I just didn't _understand_ how things were... I was so scared about everything, and when you said... when you told me. It hit too close, and I just wanted to run and..." Ron's voice winded down.

Harry placed his hand on top of Ron's and squeezed it understandingly.

"Occurisdom, the mind healer I see, he's a great guy," Ron said suddenly, licking his dry lips. "He helped me to remember. And to accept me as I am."

Harry stared at Ron, his face blank. Ron cleared his throat.

"What I've realised is that—"

"Has the tour ended yet?" Billy's voice boomed from the stairs, and Ron leaped guiltily away from Harry. Harry furrowed his brow, but as Billy appeared carrying Ron's trunk on his back, he burst into laughter.

"Billy!" he scoffed. "It's _'Locomotor'_ if you happened to forget it."

"Sure, but I 'ave teh stay fit ta be good enough fer the young lover," Billy quipped, inching in through the narrow doorway.

"Ha! When have you last worked out in the cellar?" Harry ribbed, but was smiling warmly. Billy didn't answer; instead he dropped the trunk down near the end of the bed. There was a loud crack as the heavy trunk broke the chestnut floorboards.

"Oopsie!" Billy grinned lopsided to Harry. "No worries, no worries, Billy-Boy'll fix what 'e breaks," he declared, whisking his wand from his sock and mending the floor with one smooth motion. Then he straightened up, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and turned to Ron.

"So, did yeh finish yer tour already?"

"Pretty much," Ron answered, trying to smile. Billy's macho show with the trunk set his teeth on edge; it wasn't like he couldn't have carried it upstairs himself. On the other hand, Billy had come just in time. Bugger! He very well couldn't tell Harry what he had been about to tell him.

Ron glanced swiftly at Harry and was pleased to notice him staring at Billy with raised eyebrows, looking vastly amused.

"Alrighty then," Billy blurted out. He wasn't bothered by Harry's intent look, just wrapped his arm around him. "I must go back teh _Wallace_ now, otherwise the patrons might die for longin'," he whispered loudly, then gave Harry an audible kiss which was, in Ron's point of view, mercifully short. "Yeh comin' tonight?"

Harry flushed and glanced at Ron.

"I'll try."

"Blushin' like an innocent wench," Billy chortled. He smacked Harry on his bum before stepping out of the room.

Harry's whole face was bright red by now, but his eyes were glued on the hallway where Billy disappeared. The content smile on his lips made Ron fidget and clear his throat.

Harry flinched at the sound and squared his shoulders. "Okay, where were we?"

"I think we're done," Ron mumbled; he had no desire to continue his explanation.

"Unless you want to see the Quidditch pitch installed at the attic?"

Ron's jaw dropped, and Harry burst into laughter.

"Dunce", Ron grunted and rolled his eyes, smiling nevertheless. "We did miss the kitchen, though."

"Right," Harry replied mischievously. "The most important room."

"Git," Ron chuckled and elbowed Harry's ribs. Harry dodged, yelping aloud, but stopped a little further to look at Ron with a happy smile on his lips.

"I'm glad you came here."

"Thanks for inviting me. I hope I won't bother you two too much," Ron replied smiling bravely.

"You daft sod, of course you won't!"

 

After two helpings, Ron groaned and pushed his plate further away. Harry lowered the Daily Prophet he had been reading and smiled over his cup of coffee.

"Good?"

"Heavenly. Where did you get it?"

Harry chuckled. "I made it."

"What? You can make kidney pie?" Ron marvelled. "Since when've you been able to cook?"

"Since I moved to my own place," Harry said. He finished his coffee. "I have to get back to work, now. I promised to return before six."

"Oh, okay," Ron staggered. "I thought you had a day off."

"No dice. Hestia's filling in for me until six, so I got to show you around," Harry explained, banishing his cup to the sink.

Ron twirled a fork in his fingers. "Thanks, mate."

"You're welcome," Harry smiled. "Make yourself at home. Also, it's not forbidden to do the dishes."

"Sure," Ron snorted. "It's not like I haven't done that before."

Harry stared at Ron for a moment, then grabbed his cloak and flung it around his shoulders.

"There's one thing, though," he hesitated. "I really want you to feel at home, but... Please, don't bring anyone here when I'm not home. And be careful when you use the Floo. You can Disapparate from the doorstep, but since I don't have time to show you the lock charms, right now, it might be better if you stayed in tonight."

Now it was Ron's turn to stare at Harry. What was this? The war was over, for Merlin's sake! But Ron just blinked and nodded; he was a guest, and guests obeyed the laws of the host. Harry must know these things better since he was an Auror.

"Definitely. I wasn't planning on going anywhere."

Harry bit his lip and looked like he wanted to explain, but eventually just nodded. "Thanks, mate." He was already at the door before Ron got the nerve to ask a question that he had been mulling for the last hour.

"So, _are_ you coming home tonight?"

Harry turned around. "Yeah, I will. See you at ten."

 

Ron did the dishes then unpacked his trunk. He also chatted with Dumbledore's portrait which hung in the hallway between Ron and Harry's bedrooms. To be precise, the portrait started talking to him while he was satisfying his curiosity about Harry's bedroom. He had just been attempting to Alohomora the door open when Dumbledore clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Ron had stuck his wand back into his pocket feeling embarrassed. Afterwards, he felt sure, though, that it would require more than a simple Alohomora to open Harry's door.

He strolled everywhere in the house, peeking in through every door he found. Apart from master bedroom, they all opened. The bathroom was a vast, tiled space. Besides the double shower, there was also a hot tub which Ron swore to try as soon as possible. From the bathroom cabinet, Ron found a magical razor, like the one he had, and a single toothbrush. Single. Ron bounced back to the guest room, his mind lighter now than in the last several days.

Everything was a mess. Ron had cursed his bad timing since the moment Harry almost absent-mindedly introduced Billy. If Ron had just returned earlier, things might be different now. He could have told Harry everything. They could have had a new start.

Even now, Ron wasn't quite sure for how long he had thought of Harry as more than a friend. He had repressed his feelings for so many years and was only beginning to find out how knotted his insides were. At first, he was thankful for Harry's friendship, but couldn't help wanting more.

On the bright side, Billy didn't even live here permanently.

Ron had moved to London on Occurisdom's advice. According to the mind healer, Ron was supposed to face his past, and do it now as the healing process was on the move. It was frightening, though, because as hard as meeting Harry had been, as hard as talking with Hermione and Fred would be, Ron was absolutely horrified of seeing his mother. He was fairly sure that she would be mostly happy to see her youngest son, particularly as it had been over two years. Still, it was a scary thought, mostly because Mum could, if she wanted to, be extremely cross.

The wind was blowing briskly, and the trees were swaying from side to side behind the window. It looked like it would rain soon. Ron remembered that Harry had mentioned something about a gym in the cellar, but couldn't make himself to get up. He had a full stomach, and the bed was soft underneath him. The wind rustled the maple tree branches rhythmically against the wall, again and again.

Ron pulled the cream coloured duvet over him and fell asleep within minutes.


	3. Fighting Fire with Fire

**Chapter Rating: EXPLICIT  
Warnings: Very much, and very detailed SEX in this chapter! Rimming included!**

 

  
**Chapter 2: Fighting Fire with Fire**   


 

Harry was staring at the coffee mug in his hand. He filled it up, over and over again, quite obsessed really, even if his hands were already shaking because of too much caffeine. He was feeling nervous. In fact, he had been feeling nervous ever since uttering the most ridiculous words and inviting Ron to stay with him. What the hell had he been thinking of? Billy's bitter words were still ringing inside his head, just like they had been doing for the last week.

 

_"Last two years ye've been collecting yerself, after he broke yeh, and now ye're bringing the same lad to yer home? What the devil bewitched yeh ta do that for?_

 

Harry had said nothing, just gritted his teeth. It wasn't like he didn't know doing a stupid thing, but for a short moment, for some glorious seconds, it had felt natural to ask Ron to live with him. More than natural, it had felt... right. At least, until he sat down to think about it and realised that even if he had tried to let Ron go for ages, he hadn't really succeeded.

Two years earlier, Ron's departure left Harry in pieces. It wasn't until a year later that he had found the energy to contact his friends again, and so, Billy came back to his life. After that, life became easier. Billy was there in thick and thin, comforting and enduring his ever changing moods, steady as a rock. Gradually, he helped Harry to laugh and to forget — no, not to forget, but the memories of Ron faded enough for Harry to believe he could be happy with Billy.

He wasn't so sure anymore.

Billy had been Harry's first, and was still the only man with whom Harry had ever been intimately — at least in his own skin. Their relationship was effortless, yet incomprehensible for everyone else: they just were. Harry had started to introduce Billy as his boyfriend just to simplify things. He didn't really mind; Billy was easygoing, the sex was great, and being with him helped to patch the immense hole inside Harry that was always yearning for closeness.

But a mere glimpse of Ron had made Harry's stomach tingle in a way that had him fidgeting; he had never felt that way for Billy.

Did he really want to keep on dreaming of Ron? Even if there was a strong implication that Ron was now okay with being gay, it didn't mean that he had romantic feelings towards Harry. And even if he had, how could Harry ever trust for Ron to stay in his life? He had left once, he could do it again. He had thrown the very words that would hurt Harry right in his face. Ron had more potential to hurt Harry than anyone else.

On the other hand, Ron had potential to be something more to Harry, more than anyone else. And, if Harry was being fair, Ron wasn't the only one who had ran away; they both had done mistakes.

Harry swore aloud. Couldn't he be happy with Billy? Ron would soon find a flat of his own and move out. Maybe they would see each other from time to time, like friends did, but how likely was it that they would ever be as close as they were in Hogwarts, or more?

The clacking of heels startled Harry from his thoughts.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks chirped, whooshing in to the office, her pink plaid dangling along her back. "How's it been?"

Harry straightened up and ventured for a smile.

"Quiet."

"Oh, swell. I hope the night continues the same way."

Harry chuckled, before draining his mug and grimacing at the cold, bitter coffee. He offered the seat to Tonks.

"Good night."

 

There was a lull in _Wallace_ , so Billy had time to sit with Harry by the counter. He wrapped his arm around him, stroking under the loose collar of Harry's t-shirt with his thumb.

"Yeh sure ye'll manage the rest of the night?"

Harry sighed; it wasn't like he had any choice. "I guess, but thanks for being there earlier."

Billy had promised to be there when Ron arrived, just in case, and Harry was grateful for his support. He had been anxious about the idea of spending time with Ron, just the two of them, but as Ron came over everything was like it always had been. Just like the old times. The only thing that had thrown Harry off balance was when Ron had grabbed his arm. His fingers had burned hot through the sleeve, and the warning bells had started to chime in Harry's mind. He had deliberately tried to keep Ron out of his personal space, but Ron had torn down the walls as easy as they were mere paper.

"I had ta show the young sod his place, didn't I? One roost, one rooster", Billy quipped.

"So, that's what the macho act was about?" Harry snorted, amused. "You're not jealous, are you?"

"Should I be?" Billy answered with a question and pulled lightly the hair at the nape of Harry's neck. Harry turned to Billy, surprised look on his face.

"Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I want ta hang on a sweet laddie like yeh," Billy said, patting Harry on his backside.

For a while, Harry just stared at Billy. The spectacle with the trunk had felt like a funny joke, but now Harry wasn't so sure anymore. Had Billy really been marking the territory? Since when had he been the jealous type? It wasn't like Harry minded Billy's flirting with each and every customer. He knew perfectly well that it was just for the show. Even so, Harry kept silent and grabbed his pint. He couldn't even think of cheating Billy, but he couldn't control his traitorous thoughts either. Sometimes his mind wandered to dangerous paths, and he didn't really have any right to tell Billy off.

"Did he say something?" Billy asked a moment later.

"No. I mean, he did apologize again for his words."

"He'd better," Billy grunted.

A year ago, when Harry had told Billy about Ron and his departing words, Billy had gone berserk. Even after Harry had finished his story, directing Billy's ire more towards himself, his opinion on Ron hadn't changed much.

"Ron wasn't acting himself then," Harry said vaguely.

Billy snorted.

"Billy!" Maggie yelled from the other end of the counter. Billy glanced swiftly at her and straightened up. He nodded, before turning back at Harry.

"Have ta go now. I'll come for the night."

It was a statement, not a question, but Harry nodded still. They both had a day off tomorrow, and Billy had made it crystal clear that he would spend it with Harry. And that Ron had better not to have anything against it.

"I have to leave, too. I promised to be back at ten," Harry said, after checking his watch.

Billy rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. Instead, he got up and grabbed Harry by his neck, pressing their lips together. His tongue slipped into Harry's mouth to deepen the kiss, and as Harry's hands glided to cover Billy's kilt covered bum, he leant closer and pushed his thigh against Harry's crotch. He grinned, feeling a clear twitch in the left leg of the jeans.

"Billy!" Maggie shouted again, irritation seeping from her voice.

Billy waved his hand, but didn't stop kissing until Harry leant back, gasping for air. His eyes shone bright with lust, and Billy had trouble controlling himself. What he really wanted, was to throw Harry over his shoulder and carry him upstairs, but unfortunately, it wasn't a possibility right at the moment. Well, at least he had given Harry something else to think about.

Harry was still panting. His lips were swollen, and there was a sinful blush on his cheeks. Billy licked his lips slowly, almost lewdly, before squeezing Harry's thigh and brushing his thumb over the bulge clearly visible under the denim.

"I'll come later," Billy repeated with a promise in his voice, before retreating behind the counter, smirking at Harry's disorientation.

Harry eyeballed Billy's back, cursing aloud; he wouldn't be able to walk for a few minutes.

 

Billy's kiss made Harry walk faster than normal from _Wallace_ to the alley behind it, from where he could Disapparate home. His crotch was still aching, as he slid through the wards. He threw the robes from his bag into the laundry basket, pondering with the idea of tossing off before Billy came home. As he glanced in the fridge, he chuckled lightly: not once after leaving the pub had he thought about Ron. He'd bet that it was exactly what Billy had intended. Only now, as Harry saw the empty pie tray he remembered his subtenant.

He stepped in the living room and noticed at once that Ron hadn't used the Floo though he had tried to get into the master bedroom and had gone through every other room except the cellar. Harry knew this because there was a portrait of Dumbledore also in his office.

It was weird, but Ron's curiosity didn't really bother Harry. Not even, if he had been extremely protective and secretive about his life since Hogwarts. But the mere thought of Ron threatening his privacy felt... ridiculous.

Harry furrowed his brow and climbed upstairs lost in his thoughts, but as he reached the guest room door he forgot all about the wards. He also forgot what he was going to do to Billy when he'd come home. He forgot everything.

Ron was sprawled on the guest bed, one arm dangling over the side, and one leg tangled in the rummaged duvet. His face was relaxed, serene even, and the red mop of his hair gleamed bright against the pillow. There was light snoring coming out between his slightly parted lips. The faded jeans hung low on his hips, and the black t-shirt he was wearing had risen above his belly button. Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from the freckly stomach and the jutting hipbones clearly visible under the pale skin.

He moistened his dry lips and breathed slowly in and out a few times. Then he closed the door and aimed straight to the bathroom.

 

Billy locked the front door of _Wallace_ an hour before the official closing time. He had relieved Maggie around midnight and thrown out a couple of his regulars in spite of their protests. The kiss he'd shared with Harry was still burning on his lips, and he couldn't wait to redeem his promise.

While the mop was washing the floor, Billy got lost in his thoughts.

They had drifted into the relationship with Harry almost by chance, after years of friendship. From the start, Ron had been looming over them, and did it still. Billy was well aware of Harry's feelings towards Ron and, if he was honest about it, they made him jealous. He had never felt like that for anyone.

When Harry had shuffled in _Wallace_ , over a year ago, looking more dead than alive, Billy was there for him. What goes around, comes around, he had thought, because years earlier Harry had done the same for him. After a while, Harry came around and regained his spirit. Still, even during a cheerful evening, Harry's eyes would become clouded with anguish, and Billy knew always who Harry was thinking of.

He swore aloud. He might have known that Harry'd take Ron back to his life at the first possible chance. Harry had never learnt to let go. Not even if the sod had tramped over him more than once! Well, this time Harry was not alone, and if Ron stepped one toe over the line, said a single cross word...

Billy cracked his knuckles ominously, before Disapparating in front of Harry's home.

He stepped in, securing the wards even if he knew Harry would check them before going to the bed. As he got to the living room, he stopped surprised: unlike every other night, Harry wasn't lying on the sofa. Billy furrowed his brow. Harry never waited him in his bedroom. Billy wasn't even sure whether Harry even slept there during the rare nights they spent apart.

There was a strange whoosh in the stairs, and as Billy turned around, he saw Harry standing on the lowest step. He wore an expression that needn't be explained. Billy had no time to react, until Harry's long strides brought him flush against Billy.

The kiss was fierce and full of need. Harry's hands were everywhere; gliding along Billy's back, his curly hair, pinching his bum, and finally brushing his shirt aside. Grabbing the broad shoulders, Harry bounced and wrapped his legs around Billy's hips, never breaking the kiss. Billy clutched reflexively under Harry's backside, and navigated blindly to where he hoped the sofa was. He found it by hitting his shin on it, because he was busy nuzzling Harry's neck and trying simultaneously lick his chin and ear.

Harry yelped as Billy dropped him on the soft cushions, but pulled himself together and started to strip swiftly. His eyes were peeled on Billy who dropped off his kilt even faster than Harry could push off his jeans. After getting rid of his shirt, Billy kneeled down between Harry's legs, licking his lips. He pulled Harry to the edge of the sofa and shoved his knees apart. His eyes roamed all over Harry, ending up on the reddened cock, weeping against his belly. He tilted his head.

"Oh, bloody Merl... Billy... fuck..."

Harry tried to pull Billy closer, on top of him, whatever to stop him just staring, but Billy stayed put for several seconds, each eating away Harry's patience.

Finally, Billy pushed Harry's knees up and brushed his stubbly chin against his inner thighs. He licked his way downward, Harry's gasping in his ears, and sucked the testicles gently in his mouth. His fingers brushed behind Harry's balls, fondling and stroking, until they continued all the way to the waiting hole, and even further.

Harry grabbed his knees, offering himself fully. He threw his head against the back of the sofa, mewling silently as Billy released his bollocks, continuing to lick a wet trail underneath them, going ever lower and lower. All the way to Harry's rimmed pucker, where he clammed his mouth.

"Aahhh!"

Billy alternated between soft licks and strong thrusts, and every single moan escaping Harry's lips went straight to his aching prick. He slid his hand along the hairy thigh and grabbed Harry's cock, while the other hand went south to jerk his own.

"Billy..." Harry keened just after a couple of strokes, gritting his teeth; he was so close.

The distress was clear in Harry's voice, and Billy stopped for a bit. He sucked Harry's balls into his mouth again, tucking them a bit harder. Harry yelped aloud. Billy reached to pinch his nipple, before magicking lube on his fingers; he thrust one digit in, all the way to the third joint.

"Harry," Billy sighed on Harry's throat. He placed small kisses on the arching neck and the smooth chin, and Harry's uneven breath fluttered against his cheek. As Billy pushed another finger in, he swallowed the whimper from Harry's lips.

When it became unbearable, Billy pressed his forehead against Harry's and pushed in slowly. Harry's lips were moving, forming incomprehensible words, but as Billy started the lazy thrusts, Harry's jaw slackened and he was beyond speaking.

Billy would have wanted to take it slow, to relish the moment, but couldn't help but ride Harry faster. His lips brushed Harry's, pressing together from time to time, but neither of them was able to form a coherent kiss anymore. Billy adjusted the angle and hoisted Harry's legs on his shoulders.

Harry's eyes flew open, and he yelled aloud. When Billy hit the right spot for the third time, Harry furrowed his brow, looking lost, and his mouth froze into the shape of letter O. And before Billy even had a chance to touch Harry's throbbing cock, Harry came moaning and shaking, his toes curling against Billy's ribs.

Billy squeezed his eyes shut. His movements became erratic; one, two, three, four... and he was cumming inside Harry, trembling between his bended knees.


	4. Hat Trick and Green Eyes

**Chapter Rating: PG-13**

 

  
**Chapter 3: Hat Trick and Green Eyes**   


 

Ron's eyes flew open as he fell down from the bed. After a moment of disorientation, he realised he was in a room he didn't recognize with his legs tangled with the blanket. He blinked furiously, trying to fight the panic; it was the exact situation he had swore to avoid from here to eternity. He didn't want to wake up not knowing where he was, not anymore. Had he really gotten drunk again? Did he have a hangover? He smacked his lips together, but didn't taste any alcohol.

He looked around as he clambered back on the cream-coloured sheets. After his gaze fell on the trunk lying beside the bed which he recognised as his own, he relaxed a bit. Suddenly the memories came crushing back: how nervous he had been yesterday while arriving to Harry's. How their conversation had been cut short, and how pompous Billy had behaved. Ron remembered Dumbledore's portrait. The single toothbrush on the mirror cabinet shelf.

Ron grinned again, remembering his finding.

He yawned loudly and scratched his cool stomach. Apparently, he had slept with his day clothes on, even though he had planned only to have a short nap. The door was closed, and Ron hoped that whoever had closed it, wasn't Billy.

Ron got up and stretched his rigid muscles. He walked to the door, his bare feet slapping against the floor. As he opened the door, he stopped dead; there was Billy strolling towards Harry's bedroom at the end of the hallway.

A naked Billy.

Ron slouched to the loo, feeling depressed. He shut the door behind him, making sure that it was really locked. It seemed that in this house, people didn't exactly care who saw whom doing what.

 

"Good morning," Harry mumbled as he came down to kitchen.

"Mornin'," Ron answered, pouring himself another cuppa. "I made lots."

"Splendid," Harry said, yawning and stretching his arms up in the air, while heading towards the cupboard.

Ron's eyes followed the hem of Harry's t-shirt as it rose and rose, finally revealing the narrow waist. But as Ron saw the familiar dimples on top of Harry's buttocks, he swallowed hard and turned his gaze back to the magazine. He took a couple of deep breaths and tried to focus on the foggy letters. Black and white photograph of Kingsley Shacklebolt winked at him.

"Billy popped in his home, but we are going to visit Brighton today. The Pier."

Ron nodded and turned the page with a little too much force, ripping the page. Harry paused on the other side of the kitchen isle and stared at Ron for a moment, before clearing his throat.

"You wanna come, too?"

Ron looked up, feeling puzzled. Go with them?

"Well, don't get me wrong, I'd love to, but I have an appointment with Occurisdom today," he explained feeling relieved that he didn't have to lie. He had never been at Brighton, but didn't want to go there with Harry _and Billy_.

Harry nodded. There was something off with his expression, but he rearranged his features so fast that Ron didn't have time to figure out what it was all about.

 

"Sit down, please," Occurisdom offered and closed the door behind Ron.

Ron sat down in his favourite chair which was close to Occurisdom's chair but not too close. The seating arrangement was one of the things Ron had learned to appreciate; the mind healer took care of his patients needs even if they weren't aware of them.

"How have you been, Ron?"

"Well... I'm living in London now."

"Aha. I seem to recall that we talked about your moving during our last appointment."

"Yeah, we did. But, well, things didn't go exactly as I planned."

Occurisdom raised his eyebrow, clearly waiting for an explanation.

"I went home, to Ginny's wedding, and well, I talked with Harry."

"Interesting," Occurisdom stated mildly. "How did you feel about it?"

Ron cleared his throat. At first, he had found it difficult to learn to talk about things and feelings as openly as Occurisdom wanted. There were times when Ron had sulked, and other times when he had yelled at the top of his lungs, accusing Occurisdom of prying. Eventually they had found a way to operate in a mutual agreement.

"I... well, at first it wasn't easy. It had been so long, and the thing that happened between us, well, it was so strange... But I managed to apologise, and Harry did too. Actually..." Ron chuckled, recalling their simultaneous apology, but decided against of telling about it to Occurisdom. He didn't have to know everything. "Well, the point is that we fixed things, and..."

Occuridom's quill stopped, and he glanced at Ron.

"Harry offered me his guest bedroom until I find my own place," Ron said quickly.

"I see. Have you talked more about what happened when you last saw each other?"

"Well, no. Not really. I tried to, mind you, but Harry's boyfriend kind of interrupted me."

"So, Harry is in a relationship," Occurisdom concluded, scribbling something on his pad. "And, how do you think it affects on your relationship with Harry?"

"For one, it makes everything more difficult. It's not like we've had time to talk about anything, I just moved in yesterday."

"Are you jealous of Harry?"

"I guess. A little," Ron stammered.

"You have feelings towards Harry, so jealousy is only to be expected. It's very natural in a situation like this," Occurisdom pointed out. "Are they close?"

Ron threw a questioning look at the mind healer.

"What I mean is that do they show affection towards each other under your eyes?"

Ron nodded and frowned, remembering the arrogant way Billy had behaved around Harry. If Ron was totally honest with himself, he had to admit that if he had met Billy under different circumstances, he might have liked the bloke. Billy wasn't that disgusting. But the mere knowledge that he was allowed to do things to Harry, things that Ron could only fantasise about....

"Does it feel natural to you? I do not mean the jealousy, but the feeling you get when you see two men being affectionate together?"

"Well, I don't hate it or anything. Except when it's _Billy_ who Harry touches."

Occurisdom smiled briefly, but said nothing.

"It doesn't feel any different than if they were a woman and a man," Ron concluded.

"Ron, I want you to imagine that the three of you are outside, and they continue being affectionate towards each other even if other people see it. How would you feel about it?"

"I don't know," Ron admitted, after thinking about the question.

"Would it make a difference if you imagined yourself in Billy's place?"

Ron considered it for a while. A thought of touching Harry intimately and freely was exciting, even frightening; not because of what other people might think about it, but because it was something he both wanted and didn't want.

"Yeah," he answered finally. "But it also scares me."

"Why?"

"Because it's Harry, and not just a random bloke."

Occurisdom waited with a questioning look on his face, but Ron didn't elaborate. He didn't know how.

"How was the meeting with your ex wife?" the mind healer asked after a moment.

"Umm, we haven't met yet."

"Aha."

"I mean, I thought about it, but it didn't feel right to come out to her and to my whole family while my sister was having a wedding," Ron snapped sarcastically.

He had wanted to be there, at Ginny's wedding, but had never intended of joining in. The time of explanation was not in the middle of a celebration, nor did Ron want to talk to _all_ of his relatives. But as he had seen Harry sitting close to the doorway, he just had to say something. Anything.

"I understand."

"And, well, I've been thinking about seeing my Mom," Ron continued.

"It makes you nervous?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Ron answered. "I guess, because... well, even if I'm an adult now, it feels like I'm just a kid when she gets angry."

"Talking from a personal experience, it is a very common thing to feel," Occurisdom stated.

"Well, how do you suppose I should tell her?" Ron pleaded.

"I have understood that your mother cares for you very much. I am fairly sure that she will accept you just the way you are, no matter how you tell her."

Ron didn't answer. It wasn't the acceptance he was worried about, but saying the words aloud. Occurisdom seemed to understand the real problem. 

"I assume they know about Harry's homosexuality?"

Ron nodded.

"How would you feel about asking Harry to come along as a moral support?"

"I guess... fine. Relieved," Ron burst out. He was surprised he hadn't thought of it himself.

Occurisdom glanced at his wrist watch.

"You have progressed greatly. You are clearly more self-assured and start to recognise the feelings you have towards Harry. This boyfriend of his, Billy, makes you jealous which seems to catalyze your healing process. For the next week, I will give you the same assignment: talk to your family. Tell them. It has been so long since you last saw them that a personal visit is quite mandatory."

"I guess I'll just have to pull my socks up and, well, go there."

"Haven't you missed your family?"

Ron thought about it for a minute. He hadn't stayed in touch with any of his family members, nor his old friends, even if Occurisdom had urged him to visit Burrow for over a year. Ron had put his foot down, refusing to go with such strong expressions that even Occurisdom had to back off. It wasn't until Ron had came out to Cal, that Occurisdom had mentioned the Burrow again.

It was unclear, even for Ron, why visiting home had become so big a deal. He was at peace with himself; he knew he was gay, he knew about his feelings towards Harry. Perhaps he was afraid of the regression, fearing that after going back to his childhood home he would end up hiding his true nature again.

Occurisdom had said that it was a natural thing to be worried about, though quite absurd.

"In a way. It's just that as I moved to London after the divorce, I left it all behind. It felt like the end of my childhood. So... I guess I miss them, but in the same time it all feels distant. Like it belonged to my previous life or something."

Occurisdom nodded. "It kind of did."

 

After leaving St Mungo's, Ron did the shopping and managed to slide inside the house carrying two enormous paper bags. He closed the door and tried to remember all the locking spells Harry had shown him. There were five of them, and after the fourth one Ron swore aloud.

"It's _'Substantious'_ ," Harry said behind him. Ron spun around, startled by the sound.

"Yeah, right," Ron mumbled and waved his wand for the fifth time. The door glowed pale before darkening to normal.

Ron turned around to examine Harry more carefully. He was wearing the same pair of jeans and the old, faded t-shirt that Ron had seen on him in the morning.

"Weren't you supposed to visit Brighton?" he asked, and Harry gave him a weak smile.

"Maggie got ill, so Billy had to go to work."

"Oh."

There was a silence.

"Have you eaten yet?" Harry asked eventually.

"No, but..." Ron hoisted up the grocery bag from the floor, "I did the shopping, because yesterday... well, I ate almost the whole pie."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I noticed."

Ron gave a sheepish smile. "Well, anyway, I wanted to chip in somehow. Since you don't collect rent."

"What'd you buy?" Harry asked, hitting the lights. Ron noticed for the first time, that there was a light switch by the kitchen door.

"Umm," he answered, following Harry. He placed the bag on the kitchen table and started to hand the groceries to Harry. "Eggs, and milk, and rice, and bread, and tomatoes, and a couple of beers, and oranges, and, well..."

"Chicken tikka masala?" Harry grinned.

"Well, I don't know to make it myself," Ron said defensively, placing the hot package on the table rather carefully. "I bought it just for one, because I thought you'd be out."

"I ate already," Harry said dismissively. "Fancy a beer? And there's a game on the telly, you interested?"

"Who's playing?"

"Galaxy and Saprissa. It's the CONCACAF quarter finals."

Ron nodded. Nowadays, he was a bit more aware of the Muggle football since his ex-co-worker Cal was enormous Spurs fan. Ron grabbed a fork and followed Harry to the living room.

"What's the score?"

"1–1," Harry answered without looking at Ron.

Ron wolfed down the curry while it was still warm, keeping his eyes on the game. From time to time Harry swore, as Saprissa lead the match, but Ron didn't care much which team would win. It wasn't until the half-time when it came clear why Harry's eyes were fixed on the screen.

"Lalas," he sighed as the Galaxy GM was interviewed. Ron huffed.

"What?" Harry glanced at Ron who was rolling his eyes.

"That's why we've been watching the game?" Ron chuckled and nodded towards the screen. There was a redheaded bloke wearing a dark suit and explaining vehemently what had happened and why. Harry didn't answer, but drank in the sight of the GM while his fingers shredded the label on the beer bottle. Ron decided to drop the matter.

"Have you heard anything about Dean? Or Seamus? I guess, Neville's still teaching?"

"Neville's at Hogwarts, and Dean's firm got a contract working at Diagon Alley. Fixing the street, or something," Harry said after the interview was over. "And Seamus is on expedition, in Amazon, I think. He's working for St Mungo's."

"Wicked..."

"Yeah, Dean told me last month. He's still in touch with Seamus."

"And you are with Dean?"

"Not really. We just bumped in each other while I was... while I was visiting Fred," Harry stammered. "Have you seen them yet?"

Ron shook his head.

"Mum first," he said sheepishly. "Occurisdom pushed me to tell them, too."

Harry gave a small smile, before furrowing his brow.

"Ron, how do you... I mean, please, don't get me wrong, but how do you pay for the therapy?"

Ron blushed immediately and started to fidget in his seat.

"Well, I have some savings," he mumbled, trying not to look directly at Harry.

"From your job at the bar?" Harry asked, disbelieve clear in his voice.

Ron eyeballed him fiercely. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"But I do," Harry grinned mischievously.

"Let it go," Ron blurted and summoned a beer bottle from the fridge.

"No!" Harry insisted. He turned all the way towards Ron, bending his legs under him. The second half had started, but neither of them were interested in the game anymore. "Tell me, please?"

Ron rolled his eyes and took a long swig from his beer. He rocked the bottle in the hand that was dangling over the head rest and bit his lip. Maybe Harry would understand.

"Teeeeeeell meeeee..." Harry kept moaning. He was bouncing up and down on his seat, and Ron laughed aloud.

"Okay, okay. But not a word to anyone."

"Cross my heart."

"Well, do you remember the book I gave you when you turned seventeen?" Ron began.

"Of course. _'Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches'_ ," Harry said promptly. Ron nodded.

"It gave me the idea, because, well, at least Hermione used to have an enormous pile of Muggle romance novels, and... when I wasn't working, I might have read a few. Just because I had nothing else to do!" Ron had to raise his voice towards the end, because Harry had started to snigger loudly.

"Should I just stop and let you keep on laughing?" Ron demanded. Harry sorted out his face and gestured for Ron to continue.

Ron huffed, but was secretly glad. He was really talking with Harry! This was the thing that Ron had missed most. Right this: being with Harry and talking about anything, it didn't matter what the topic was. Ron was ready to reveal his greatest secret just to have Harry back in his life.

"I got myself a Quick-Quote Quill and started to dictate even before the divorce. Well, I don't even have to dictate, it can read my mind. So, I just changed witch charms into Muggle ones, getting rid of magic and so on, and mixed it up with heroic men and brave women. The Muggle publisher was so excited, that he wouldn't even pressure me to promote the books in person, which was a good thing because I wouldn't have done it in any case."

Harry had stopped laughing; he was too busy staring at Ron.

"How come I haven't ever—"

"They're published under a pseudonym," Ron said before Harry even finished his sentence. "And no, I won't tell you what it is."

Harry's eyes flashed, and Ron's stomach gave a lurch.

"Tell me!"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because... Because it's embarrassing," Ron sighed.

"Oh? More embarrassing than the fact that you're writing romance novels?" Harry burst out laughing again. He guffawed so hard, he had to hold his belly. Ron couldn't help but smile.

"Veronica von Bluffenhammer," Ron said eventually. He had to repeat the name, though, after Harry got a hold of himself.

"Ve-Ron-ica," Harry giggled. "Let me see one of your books!"

"No!" Ron yelped.

"Ve-Ron-icaaa..." Harry coaxed. "Just one book?"

"No!" Ron denied again, forcing himself to keep cool, even though Harry tried to crack him by making funny faces.

"How about reading them for me? Just a few lines?"

Ron hesitated a second too long, and Harry started to bounce again on the sofa.

"Yes! Straight from the authors mouth!"

Ron rolled his eyes again, and gave a deep sigh.

"Okay, but just a little," he said, summoning his notes. "You'd better not laugh!"

Harry nodded eagerly, showing his best poker face.

"Okay, this is from the newest draft. I dictated it last week," Ron told and cleared his throat.

 

_"Charlotte," Gerard sighed, leaning against the door frame that led to the maiden's chambers. "I apologise. How can I assure you that I feel a great remorse?"_

_"Go away!" Charlotte's trembling voice rang out from other side of the door. Gerard lifted his face, feeling hopeful._

_"Charlotte, my love? Please, listen to me for a brief moment," Gerard prayed. "It was of most importance for me to take time to think about the matters. I was fool, I was selfish, yes, but I had to be certain!"_

_"I do not wish to listen to you!" Charlotte sobbed against the door, and her beatific green eyes filled with tears. In spite of the despair in her heart, her disobedient hand rose to the key and turned it, letting Gerard in._

_"Charlotte, my dearest," Gerard murmured, hoisting the maiden to his strong arms. "I love you, I adore you more than you can imagine! Ever since we were youngsters, frolicking by the river without a worry in our minds, already then I knew you were my destiny. I only didn't understand it, until I was in the verge of losing you."_

_Charlotte laid her head onto Gerard's chest, circling his broad torso with her pale arms._

_"Gerard... if you truly love me, kiss me."_

_And, as Gerard pressed his lips against Charlotte's, he felt forgiveness, for Charlotte entangled herself upon him, embracing him with such a forcefulness that they become as one. The all-victorious love surged inside him, and he knew that this truly was his destiny._

 

Ron glanced shyly at Harry, but was surprised to notice that he had stopped laughing. His eyes were huge, and there was sadness in them. Ron furrowed his brow, not knowing what to think.

"Well... it sounded good," Harry recovered quickly, trying to smile.

"Yeah, right," Ron snorted. "But who cares, as long as it's selling, right?"

Harry gave a strained chuckle, then got up to his feet.

"It's getting late. I think I'll go to bed."

"Okay, I guess you're right," Ron complied, before checking his watch — it was only eight.

Harry banished their empty beer bottles, then turned to the stairs. Ron panicked. The atmosphere had changed rapidly, and Ron didn't have a clue about what had happened. Harry was almost behind the corner when Ron remembered.

"Harry!" he yelled, and Harry spun around. "Well, I've been meaning to visit the Burrow shortly, see my Mum and tell... well, I mean, I could use a moral support."

Harry blinked a couple of times, but nodded slowly. "Of course. I get out at three tomorrow, maybe we can go then?"

"Tomorrow already?" Ron startled. Then he sighed. "Yeah, tomorrow is good."

"I'll owl Molly in the morning and make sure she's at home," Harry promised and grabbed the railing, starting to climb the stairs.

"Thanks," Ron mumbled. "And good night."

"Night," Harry answered, before disappearing to the second floor.

Ron stood still, staring after Harry, trying to figure out what he had done wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Occurisdom belongs to **Palladium** , but she was kind enough to lend him to me for a while. Thank you, Palla <3 I would also like to emphasise that I have no clue about what therapy is really like. Probably something much different than how it's introduced in this story. In my defence, the therapy in the Wizarding World _could be_ different than ours, but anygays, the locks that Ron carries inside him require probably a great deal of sessions. Summa summarum, I apologise if I managed to insult someone who has a better knowledge about these things. Please, remember, this is just fiction :)
> 
>  _Substantious_ was a marvellous suggestion for a spell from someone, but unfortunately I've forgotten who it was :/
> 
> And yeah, Veronica von Bluffenhammer. It just leaped into my mind, and it wasn't until after writing a couple more words that I realised (kind of like Harry did) that "there's Ron in the middle" :D
> 
>  


	5. Wishful Unsubconsciousness

**Chapter Rating: PG-13**

 

  
**Chapter 4: Wishful Unsubconsciousness**   


 

The narrow isle was shadowed by overgrown bushes. Harry ran for his life, blood pumping in his ears. He glanced behind. He could see nothing, but he knew they were after him. They were always after him.

He ran faster and faster, breathing loudly, but still, he got nowhere. It wasn't until he looked down that he realised he was actually wading through water. The bottom sloped steeply, and each footstep felt more strenuous than the former. His lungs were begging for mercy.

There was a splash behind him and he looked back. The fog had fallen, so he saw nothing, but he could hear the rush of the water. Someone was plodding towards him. Very fast.

Harry did the only reasonable thing he could think of; he lunged head first into the water.

Something was wrong. Gillyweed didn't work, and Harry almost swallowed a mouthful of cold water. He panicked, changing direction blindly, plummeting towards the surface, instead of diving deeper. But it was too dark. He didn't know which way was up and which down, and all the time the lack of oxygen made his head buzz. Feeling desperate, he tried doing the Bubble-Head Charm, but nothing happened.

Suddenly, his foot got stuck. He swirled around and spotted a hideous, greenish Grindylow who had its long fingers gripped tightly around his ankle.

Harry tried to fire a spell at the creature, but his wand was still uncooperative. As the Grindylow pulled him deeper and deeper, the edges of his vision grew dimmer. He needed air!

He was wrestling and fighting to break the creature's grip, but he couldn't reach his ankle. An enormous air bubble escaped from his mouth as he cried for help, but even he couldn't hear his own voice. The darkness closed in around him, and the flickering shadows drew near.

Then, someone grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him up towards the surface, towards the light, and finally...

Harry gasped for air and sprang up from the bottom of the sofa. He knocked his head into something solid only to realise after a moment of disorientation that the something had been Ron, who was on his knees beside the sofa, rubbing his chin.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked.

Harry stared at Ron nonplussed. Ron had rescued him, but hadn't it been his job to save Ron? Where was the Grindylow? And the Death Eaters? How come his clothes didn't feel wet?

"Ron, what—" Harry began, but stopped dead when he heard a loud bang from behind. His instincts took over, and he leapt immediately to his feet, swishing his wand out from the arm holster. He placed himself in between the noise and Ron, and before he was even thinking about the words, a shimmering shield erupted around them. Harry heard Ron saying something, but he couldn't concentrate on the words.

He was extremely on edge, like an over stretched string of a bow, ready to Stun. In spite of all the defensive charms he had placed over the house, someone had managed to invade their home. It was only Ron's presence that kept Harry from barging in to the kitchen — he couldn't afford to misfire.

The intruder stepped into the shaft of light beaming from the stairway, and finally Harry could see their face.

He stared at Billy, standing at the doorway, for two full seconds before the world around him shifted into the right place. He remembered falling asleep on the sofa and having a nightmare from which he was awaken and rescued by Ron. He realised that Billy had come to him for the night. He also realised that his wand was still pointing at Billy.

Harry lowered his wand, and the force field around them disappeared. It was like someone had turned up the volume again, because suddenly Harry could hear the sounds, and most particularly, he could hear his name yelled from two different directions.

Ron was closer so he got to Harry first. He placed his large hand on Harry's shoulder, trying to turn him around. He couldn't do it, though, because Harry was too shocked to move. Harry couldn't begin to understand how he had fallen asleep while waiting for Billy. He never slept anywhere else than in his own room.

As Billy reached Harry, he wasted no time, but wrapped his long arms around Harry. He threw a questioning glance at Ron over Harry's shoulder.

"He was having a nightmare," Ron explained. "I got him up, and then he just jumped to his feet pushing me aside and..."

Billy nodded. They stared at each other for a moment, before Ron started off for the stairs. He didn't even reach the first step, before he heard a muffled cough behind him, prompting him to turn around.

Harry had let go of Billy and was looking at Ron now, his eyes full of wonder.

"Thank you."

 

After Ron disappeared upstairs, Harry fell down on the sofa, trying to make sense of his thoughts. Billy sat down, too, wrapping his arm around Harry again.

"I fell asleep and after I woke up I didn't know the difference between dream and reality," Harry muttered, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Aye," Billy snorted. "Some welcome yeh arranged for poor Billy-Boy."

Harry fidgeted guiltily; he had almost attacked Billy.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Billy smiled and rubbed Harry's back gently with his palm. Then he yawned.

Harry scanned Billy more thoroughly and noticed how worn he looked with the dark circles around his eyes. He brushed Billy's stubble with his thumb and kissed him softly.

"It's late, let's get to bed."

 

They wrapped themselves around each other under the warm quilt. Billy fell asleep right away, but Harry couldn't. He was tired, but there was still enough adrenaline pumping through his veins to keep him awake, not to mention the oppressing feeling of the nightmare still lingering around.

Waking up from some other place than the safety of his own room should have scared the living daylights out of him. And it would have, if not the fact that the first thing he had seen was Ron. It brought out the memories of the boys' dormitory in Gryffindor tower, and the countless number of times when Ron had woken him up, after his nightmare had gotten too real. Ron was always there.

Harry turned around carefully and inched away from Billy. He stared at the paling window behind the thick curtains.

The nightmares had stayed away for a long time. Harry didn't remember seeing them since Billy was staying a week with his mother near Callander. Unfortunately, the fact that the nightmares seldom occurred than before, didn't make them any less intensive. After defeating Voldemort, Harry didn't see glimpses of his deranged mind anymore — instead, he was either trying to find something, or escaping from something, never really getting anywhere. And every time the remaining Death Eaters were prowling in circles, ready to snatch Harry if his vigilance slackened even for a moment. It was the exact reason why Harry was feeling so alert during the daytime, too.

Years ago, Harry had laughed off Moody's paranoia, but nowadays he realised that he had started to resemble Mad-Eye more than ever. He never slept anywhere else than in his own room, surrounded by heavy safety spells. He didn't want guests inside his house without an advance warning.

At least the Press was still ignorant of his return to Britain. He didn't need for them to snoop around, finding out about Billy. So many years had passed after the war, and Harry had been abroad for so long that hopefully people had already forgotten about him.

He curled up closer to Billy again, finding comfort in his steadily rising chest. Closing his eyes, Harry fell asleep. When he woke up, a couple of hours later, he didn't remember seeing any dreams at all.

 

Harry dozed off in front of his desk, trying in vain to concentrate on the unfinished paperwork. His eyes were itching, and the letters seemed to dance from row to row. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he pushed away the half empty report, grunting in frustration.

Why did he have to have such a big mouth? He didn't want to go to the Burrow, especially not with Ron. Even though the previous evening had started off easily, and for a moment he had been able to forget the past years, the catastrophic end had brought him back to Earth with a crash.

The plot of Ron's newest book was horribly familiar, and it made Harry wonder whether Ron had picked that part for reading on purpose. Harry was not particularly a fan of romantic novels, but still, there were too many similarities between the story of Gerard and Charlotte compared with Harry and Ron's. And, he had to admit that Gerard had voiced the precise words that Harry himself had wanted to hear from Ron for so many years now.

And that's why Ron's remark had hit Harry like lightning, driving him to the safety of his own room. Right now, his tired brain tried to work out the problem, but everything felt like a great big mess, and nothing made sense anymore.

One thing was certain, from now on, Harry must not be left alone with Ron. If his mind went to hyper drive only from hearing a fictive story, he would no longer be responsible for his actions. Today was going to be the last exception as Ron needed his help.

 

At Ron's wishes, they Apparated half a mile off from the Burrow. As soon as Harry felt the solid ground under his feet, he let go of Ron's arm.

They waded through an overgrown hay field, and the further they got, the slower Ron's pace turned to. Eventually, he stopped walking altogether and sat down on a stone wall bordering a wildly embellished meadow. Harry hesitated, but after a moment he sat down, too, keeping a good few feet distance between him and Ron.

"Blimey! Why is it so frigging difficult?" Ron wailed, clenching his fists in his pockets. Harry gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Try practising it first," he suggested. "What exactly are you going to say to your Mum?"

Ron sighed. "Haven't the foggiest."

The sun peeked behind a cloud, inflaming the meadow on golden glow, before another _cumulus_ sailed to quell the warm rays. Harry closed his tired eyes.

"What did _you_ say when you came out?" Ron asked.

"Well, it was easier for me, what with having no parents to tell to."

Ron startled. "Hey, mate, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's alright," Harry smiled feebly. "With Molly and Arthur it was easy. One Sunday, I just took Billy with me and introduced him as my boyfriend. Of course, Hermione and Fred already knew, so it was painless."

"Right," Ron muttered, chewing his lip.

"How about just saying it? Then it'll be over. I'm hundred per cent sure that Molly won't take it badly, so you can stop worrying about it."

"Oh, like: "Hey, Mum. Right. You know how I was away for a couple of years? Well, now I'm back... and, oh, yes, I'm also... well... I like blokes."

"I'm gay," Harry corrected. "Say, you're gay. It's not a curse word."

Ron nodded, blushing lightly.

"Try again."

"Gaygaygaygaygaygaygay..." Ron repeated away. Harry burst into laughter without really meaning to. "You told me to practice!"

"You're doing splendid," Harry grinned, then before even noticing what he was doing, patted Ron's knee. He got up immediately, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. "Can we go now?"

Ron either failed to notice Harry's confusion, or at least, didn't let it show. He just got up and trailed behind Harry. Harry could almost hear how hard Ron was trying to think about the right words to tell his Mum.

They reached the front yard of the Burrow and Harry rubbed his eyes again, yawning widely.

"Bugger, I forgot," Ron apologized. "I'll bet you didn't sleep more than a few hours last night, and now I've dragged you here."

"It's alright," Harry replied. "At least, I won't sleep all day and ruin the next night, too."

Ron was about to say something back, but the front door opened, and a very shocked looking Molly stepped outside.

"Ron?" She whispered.

Ron smiled nervously, stepping closer, while Harry stood still.

"Hullo, Mum," Ron said, opening his arms invitingly.

Molly threw herself in Ron's arms, hugging him as tightly as she could. Ron wrapped his arms around his mother, and Harry smiled, soaking in the sight. It was clear as day why Ron had avoided coming home to see his Mum, but it was also crystal clear to Harry, that Ron was never going to be treated any less than a homecoming War hero.

After Molly had wet Ron's shirt with her tears, she stepped back, giving her youngest son a proper once over.

"Withered poor boy," Molly spluttered, taking out a handkerchief. As she wiped her eyes, she noticed for the first time that Harry, too, had come to visit.

"Oh, Harry! Thank you! Thank you for bringing Ron back home!" Molly gushed, throwing herself at Harry in turn.

"I'm almost certain it was Ron's own idea," Harry confessed, patting Molly's back.

"Come in, come in," Molly fussed, pushing both Harry and Ron towards the front door. "The dinner's not quite ready yet, but don't worry, I'm sure there is something to nibble on..."

"Just like when we were kids, and you came over after being starved by the Dursleys for weeks," Ron whispered, getting the door for Harry.

 

After seven large sandwiches, they retired to the living room with tea. Harry sat down, and without thinking, Ron slid next to him. They looked at each other, then glanced at the remaining third of the sofa, realising simultaneously that Hermione wasn't there after all. To Harry's surprise, Ron snickered before hauling his bum a bit further. Harry took a sip from his tea to hide his smile.

"Ron, dear; where are you staying?" Molly asked after setting herself down and grabbing Ron's hand once again. She had been holding it the whole time, hampering Ron's ability to gobble down his share of the sandwiches. She had also bombarded him with questions after questions.

"At Harry's," Ron answered. "At least, for now."

Molly gave Harry a warm look, but didn't have time to say anything, before Ron continued.

"Mum, listen, I should tell you something," Ron threw a startled look at Harry, who nodded encouragingly. Molly's eyes darted between Ron and Harry.

"Tell me what?"

"Well, I mean that..." Ron mumbled. He glanced at Harry again, who, being overly tired and a bit exuberant, mouthed the word 'gay', causing Ron to snort with laughter. Molly smiled, looking a bit confused.

"Um, after the divorce everything was sort of foggy," Ron continued, growing serious.

"No wonder, the nasty trick they pulled—" Molly blurted out, squeezing Ron's hand.

"Yes, well, no... I mean, in a way, it was a good thing," Ron cut her off, ignoring her sharp intake of breath. "Of course, in reality it wasn't that perfect, and I wish we could have settled things in another way than behind my back, but still..."

Harry stared out of the window, wondering whether Ron would still be in the closet if he hadn't been driven out by Hermione and Fred's relationship. Would Ron still be living in Muggle London, not knowing about his nightly actions, if Harry never came back to the UK? And last but not least, would Harry be happier if either of the two hadn't happened?

"...I mean, it got me thinking," Ron continued, "and I started to see a Mind Healer."

"Oh, poor Ron..." Molly sighed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Bloody good thing it was!" Ron persisted. "It finally made me realise how bad things really were. And, also..."

Again, Ron's eyes sought Harry's, sheer panic reflecting in them. Harry tried to smile, but could only nod.

"Ron?" Molly asked, after a long stretch of silence.

"Mum, I'm... I'm... gay."

For a brief moment, Molly stared at Ron, her eyes wide as saucers. Then she beamed and lunged at Ron's, pulling Harry into a group hug, too.

"It's so wonderful, boys!" Molly declared. "I must say that there were times I wondered if... But, it's of no concern. The most important thing is that you are finally happy together!"

Harry pulled away, shocked to the core, just able to stare at Molly. Ron, too, struggled to free himself from his mother's clutches — not so successfully, though. He finally peeked over her shoulder at Harry, stuttering weakly.

"Mum, what are you...?"

Molly was crying again, this time for joy. She patted Ron's cheek tenderly, before turning to Harry.

"Of course, it's a bit of a shame for Billy," she regretted. "Charlie spoke ever so good of him, they were in Hogwarts at the same time. But then again, it's utterly marvellous that you two—"

"We are not together," Harry cut her short. It was like he had been swapped into another reality. The problem was, though, that at the moment Harry couldn't decide which of them was more warped than the other.

"Mum, Harry is still together with Billy. I'm just staying with him as long as I can find my own place," Ron chimed in.

Molly furrowed her brow, visibly baffled.

"I'm so sorry, I reckoned that..." she stammered, fixing her stare at Harry. She looked both surprised and a little sad. Harry felt a lump in his throat, and he rose up quickly.

"Um, maybe I'll let you two to have a chat," he blurted. He had to get out.

"But Arthur will be home any minute now, and—"

"Molly, you and Ron definitely have lots to talk about. I'll visit later," Harry insisted. Then he turned to Ron. "You alright, mate?"

Ron nodded, staring at Harry for a moment, before getting on his feet, too.

"Mum, how about another cuppa after I see Harry out first?"

"Of course, dear," Molly agreed finally, hugging Harry again. "Come see us soon."

Harry pressed a light kiss on Molly's cheek, before hurrying to the backdoor, Ron hot on his heels. He didn't stop before he was standing in front of the Burrow, breathing in the fresh air. He closed his eyes, trying to calm down.

"Harry..." Ron hesitated. Harry turned around. Ron stood just outside the door, looking perplexed.

"I'm sorry," Harry said immediately, "but it went so well, so you'll manage on your own."

"Of course," Ron answered quickly. "I mean, thanks, mate. But is everything fine with _you_?"

Harry barked a laugh. "Everything's super. I just want to see Billy before he goes to work."

Ron nodded, looking suddenly very serious. Harry's stomach lurched. He didn't want to lie to Ron, but how else could he explain his quick withdrawal? It wasn't really a possibility to say it out loud how at least half of him wished that Molly's guess had been right, and that his head was about to explode for all the thoughts twisting in there; that everything had happened too fast, and he hadn't had the chance to analyse his feelings.

"See you tonight, I guess," Ron finally said.

"See you."


	6. A Freudian Slip

**Chapter Rating: EXPLICIT  
Warnings: There's adult content = SEX in this chapter, beware!!1**

 

  
**Chapter 5: A Freudian Slip**

 

_One week later_   


 

The waiter laid a pint of beer and a fine glass of Coke on the table.

"Find a flat already?" Cal asked, sipping his beer.

"Not yet," Ron answered, grabbing his glass. "I'm supposed to go and see one today."

"Fancy company?"

"Thanks, mate," Ron was clearly delighted for the offer.

"I guess Harry is working, since he's not here?" Cal mused.

"Harry's always working nowadays," Ron grumbled, keeping his eyes fixed on the crowd behind the window. "I haven't seen him in a week."

"What?" Cal flinched. "But you're still living with him?"

"Tell me about it," Ron snorted. "That's what makes this so odd."

Ron had Apparated at Harry's after spending the evening with his parents, but Harry had already been sleeping. That didn't ring any alarm bells, since Harry probably hadn't had enough sleep the night before. But Harry was a no-show the next day, also the day after that, and it was enough to make Ron worried. Harry had left the Burrow in a hurry, acting very peculiar. Ron was almost certain that he had missed something in their conversation.

On Friday morning, there was a note from Harry on the kitchen table informing Ron about him leaving for a job, and not being back until Sunday evening. Ron had spend both Friday and Saturday evenings with Cal, but returned home when Cal had headed out for the night life. Ron was far from being an teetotaller, but for now he had his fill from the pubs.

Instead of drinking, Ron had found the private gym in the cellar. He had tried all the equipment; worked out his thighs, arms, back and abs. It wasn't his first time working out, but Harry definitely had more gadgets than Ron's former gym in Leeds.

His favourite was the treadmill. It was the only thing in the cellar that had any magic in it; instead of using a controller, the user only had to picture the running environment in his head, and the piece of equipment adapted with the vision.

At least, with Harry gone, there was no Billy either. Until Friday night. Ron padded across the house to his room, butt-naked, and ran into Billy. He had been working out for an hour, then soaked in the hot tub for almost two. He had nearly dropped his towel which he had wrapped around his hips haphazardly, thinking the house was empty besides him.

Billy had gazed Ron's scantily clad body rather condescendingly, but neither had said a word. The whole encounter had filled Ron with an unpleasant feeling, and he never left his room without his wand anymore.

On Sunday, Ron cleaned up a bit, made supper, and then sat in front of the telly while the roast cooled down on the table. He didn't wake up until the wee hours of the morning. There was a blanket placed neatly over him, and after panicking about a possible food poisoning, he realised that the roast was stacked in the fridge, even the dishes were done.

Harry was nowhere to be seen, and Ron didn't have time to wait him up; not that he even knew whether Harry had stayed in. He had simply rushed up to meet Cal before the appointment with the flat agency.

"Did you have a row?" Cal interrupted Ron's pondering.

"No... I don't think so."

"Guess he's just busy at the office," Cal shrugged. "Listen, if he gives you trouble you can always crash on my sofa."

Ron stifled a shiver. Nowadays it was easier to spend time with Cal, but he would never forget how it felt to see Cal for the first time after believing to have come in his hand. Even though he could rationalise that it had been Harry, not Cal, his body didn't always believe him. The more Ron had to think about it, the less he wanted to sleep on _that_ sofa.

"Thanks, mate, but I'm sure it'll be alright," Ron said evasively, gulping down the rest of his soda. "Shall we see the flat now?"

 

The apartment was in moderate condition. The walls were paper thin, you could actually hear the neighbours talking, but Ron didn't let it bother him; after a simple Silencio there would be no problem. The bathroom was ascetic, but there was an operating shower. The kitchen, too, was only passable, but when Ron saw the bedroom, he was set.

It was bigger than any other room of the flat. Almost the whole back wall was a window with a view to a nearby park. The flat was on the second floor, and behind the window there were tree branches waving in the wind.

Ron smiled. The view reminded him of Harry's guest room.

"I guess it's okay," Cal hollered, entering the bedroom. "The trees shadow the view a bit."

"I like it," Ron said and stepped on the balcony. He took a deep breath of the fresh air before turning around. "I'm going to take it."

"Are you sure? It's a long way to Covent Garden."

"Totally!" Ron grinned.

 

"How was your week?" Occurisdom asked, as he always did, after Ron settled down in his favourite chair.

"Just fine. I signed a lease today."

"Congratulations."

Ron smiled hesitantly. Renting a flat had happened suddenly, and he didn't quite know what to think about it. At first, it meant he didn't get to see Harry as much, but on the other hand, he didn't have to see Billy either. At least, not as much as before.

"Although... Harry has been acting weird these last days," Ron continued after a moment.

"Weird?"

"Well, he's been avoiding me the whole week."

"Aha. Did something happen between you two?"

It was the exact question Ron had been thinking about all week.

"The last time we talked was... Harry was with me when I told Mum. And she thought we were together," he explained. "Harry took off quickly."

"Interesting."

"And the night before, I woke up because Harry was yelling, and ran downstairs. When I realised it was a nightmare I tried to wake him up, but then Billy came in and..."

"And?"

"And Harry thought someone was attacking us or something."

"Harry is an Auror?" Occurisdom asked after waiting a bit.

"Yeah."

"And he had just woken from a nightmare?"

"Yeah," Ron agreed, getting the point. It was true that Harry had become more paranoid by the year, but still, it had shocked Ron to see how fast he had reacted to Billy's arrival.

"Did Harry mention what the nightmare was about?"

"Not to me he didn't," Ron grunted.

"Hm."

"He just jumped up and cast a Shield around us when Billy arrived."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't have time to do anything, it all happened so bloody fast! Besides, Harry's Shield was between us and Billy... and it was very strong."

"Interesting."

Ron felt his cheeks blush. Occurisdom's tone clearly implied something, but he just didn't understand how natural that kind of behaviour was for Harry.

"Harry's always been like that," Ron explained.

"Of course."

"Always putting others first," Ron tried again. He started to get pissed off with his mind healer. What did it matter if Harry was trying to protect him? Ron would have done the same if the threat had been real. They had saved each other countless times during the war, and Ron hadn't even thought there was something off with the way Harry had acted that night.

"What happened next?" Occurisdom asked, glancing up from his pad.

"Then Harry recognised Billy, they hugged, and I went upstairs.

Occurisdom scratched his nose with his quill. "Earlier that evening, was Harry acting naturally?"

"Well, yeah. We watched football and talked a bit. And... I told him about the books."

"I see."

"Harry wanted to see one, and I agreed to read him a couple of lines."

"Which lines?"

"Something work-in-progress," Ron said evasively. He had told Occurisdom that he wrote, also what he wrote, but he had never read him anything. Why would he?

"Read it to me."

Ron flinched at Occurisdom's demanding tone, but eventually shrugged and dug out the notepad from his bag. He browsed it for a while, and read aloud the same part he had read for Harry. After he finished, he glanced expectantly at Occurisdom. The mind healer's expression was peculiar; it looked almost as if he was biting his lip.

"How did Harry take it?"

"Um," Ron contemplated. "He said it was alright."

"Aha."

"Well, who cares how marvellous it is, as long as it's selling," Ron snapped, after Occurisdom stayed quiet for too long. The mind healer's gaze snapped back to Ron.

"Is that what you said to Harry, too?" he asked, and Ron nodded.

"I see."

Occurisdom's quill flew on the pad. Ron stared at him, tapping his nails on his thigh, but it took almost a minute before Occurisdom opened his mouth again.

"I have said it before, writing is good for you. It gives you self-confidence. Never before have we addressed your themes, though. Do you model your characters after real persons?"

"No," Ron said immediately, but then pondered the question a bit. "Well, perhaps I sometimes add a feature or two from somebody I know, but nothing anyone could recognise."

"Aha."

"Basically they all go down the same way: the woman gets dumped, and the man realises he should've never left her in the first place. Then he regrets leaving, comes back, and convinces the woman that he really loves her. She forgives, the end. All is well."

"I must admit, that is the usual plot with romance," Occurisdom said amused, but continued before Ron had time to react. "What colour are Charlotte's eyes?"

The question took Ron by surprise, but he didn't need to consult his notes to answer.

"Green."

"Do your heroines always have green eyes?"

"Well, not every time, but..." Ron huffed, knitting his brow. "I don't even mention it in all the books."

"I see," Occurisdom said. "Do the main characters always know each other from their childhood?"

"Um," Ron hesitated, but nodded eventually.

"Interesting."

The cogs were turning in Ron's head. It was true that usually the heroine had green eyes, and that she and the hero were childhood friends, but it meant nothing, right? Unless...

"You mean the characters are like me and Harry?"

"What do _you_ think?"

"It's ridiculous! Having green eyes doesn't mean that Charlotte is like Harry. And Gerard left just because he wasn't ready for the commitment and because he didn't realise..." Ron's voice dwindled, and at the same time, his eyes grew larger.

"But as long as it's selling?" Occurisdom finished with a small smile.

Ron buried his face in his hands, finally getting the idea. And, as Occurisdom, Harry too had seen what Ron saw only now.

"Oh, bloody hell. Harry must have thought... and then I..." Ron stammered.

"Waved aside the whole situation."

"And now Harry thinks I don't really..." Ron fell silent.

He cursed under his breath. How could he be so blind? For years, he had written their story dressed up in disguises. Every single time the repenting hero had said the same words Ron himself wanted to confess to Harry. He felt like a giant moron.

"You don't really what?" Occurisdom asked after a moment.

"That I don't really love him," Ron murmured between his fingers.

Occurisdom studied Ron for a while.

"Have you told Harry how you feel for him?"

Ron peeked at the mind healer and sighed.

"No."

"Aha."

"I'd like to, but how can I, really, when Harry's in love with someone else," Ron explained, his voice dripping sarcasm.

"Have you discussed with Harry about your sexual encounter that happened before you left London?" Occurisdom asked suddenly.

"No!" Ron shouted, but continued more mildly. "I can't very well just go and ask a taken bloke that 'hey, you remember the time you were wanking me?' and 'what do you think about it?' ...You just don't do it."

Occurisdom didn't answer. Instead, he checked his watch, and scribbled down a couple more words.

"Your assignment this week is still the same," he finally said. "Tell your family."

"Fred and Hermione," Ron muttered.

"Yes. You have been avoiding them long enough."

 

After leaving Occurisdom's, Ron was still dead sure that there was no point in trying to talk to Harry about _that night_. Harry hadn't mentioned it with a word during this whole time, not after...

Ron stopped in the middle of the yard, remembering the letter he received right before moving to Leeds. He had read it a million times and knew it by heart, but the need to see the words Harry had written made Ron gallop straight to his own room. He rummaged the bottom of his trunk, locating finally the shabby envelope stuck in between the Chudley Cannons Yearbook 2004.

The pages were dog-eared, and the writing was so faded that anyone else couldn't have read it, but to Ron the words shone brightly.

 

>   
> After the War, there were times you looked at me differently, and I thought it meant something. That's why I waited for so long.  
> 

 

Ron actually remembered how he had sometimes been looking at Harry and not recognising him. At first, Ron thought it happened because of the post war stress, but as it turned out, it was something completely different. Few times Harry's smile had seemed so strange that Ron was only able to stare at it, fill his memories with it, filing the whole scene somewhere deep in his subconscious. It was only now that these memories started to return to his conscious mind.

He glanced again at the faded writing.

 

>   
> Give me another chance, will you? At least, let's be friends again, dammit, even acquaintances! The thought of never seeing you again, it... it feels awful. It feels so horrible, I can't even breathe. Please, Ron...  
> 

 

Ron swept his eyes dry, before continuing reading until he found the part he was looking for.

 

>   
> But you said my name. You shouted "Harry" as you came. Why? Why did you do it if you really feel nothing for me? I don't understand it...  
> 

 

Ron stared at the letter, breathing deep. He still remembered seeing Harry's face in front of him while cumming on Cal's hand — Harry's hand, Ron reminded himself. At first, he believed it happened because lately Harry had been on his mind. But even now, Ron wasn't sure whether the effect of Polyjuice Potion had ended right at that moment, or if it had been just his hallucination. Neither did he know if he had screamed Harry's name to any of his fuck buddies he had taken to his apartment for Merlin knows how many months.

The letter had been an anchor for Ron during his sessions; both good and bad ways. At first, it had pulled him deeper to his anger and resentment, and he had ripped it apart countless of times, frustrated by his inability to understand. Every time, after coming around, he had _Reparo_ -ed the badly handled parchment. It was concrete proof of that night, that morning being real.

Later on, the letter had served as a dear memory of Harry. It had pestered Ron by its existence, making him remember, day after day, what he had run from and what he had yet to face. It had given him hope by proving Harry's feelings towards him. The feelings Ron still hoped to exist.

Maybe he couldn't talk to Harry about that night, but fortunately he could reminisce by himself.

Ron folded the letter carefully and slipped it back between the Year Book, before closing the door and hauling himself back to bed. He opened the buttons of his jeans, and slid his hand inside his boxers. He closed his eyes and brought exactly to his mind how Harry's hand had felt while jacking him off.

_"Let me help you."_

This time, the voice was not Cal's but Harry's, and it floated gently up to Ron's ears. This time, Ron didn't stare at Cal's but Harry's eyes smouldering with lust, his lips partly opened, getting nearer and nearer...

The jeans were soon too tight, and Ron kicked them off. He propped himself against the pillow and gripped his half hard prick. He closed his eyes again, brushing his chest with his fingers and fantasising they were really Harry's touching his skin. He tweaked a perky nipple, and soon the room was filled with his ragged breathing.

Harry's tongue slithered into Ron's mouth... Stroke, stroke, twist over the tip... And now Ron was in the kitchen, pushing his hands under Harry's shirt, jerking his trousers down, kneeling down to kiss the dimples he had missed so much... Ron formed a ring with his fingers and penetrated it, gasping for the sharp tightness... And he thrust slowly into Harry's tightness, nuzzling his pale neck, pressing wet kisses wherever he reached... Thrust, another thrust. Ron sucked his finger, then let it graze his throat and chest, glide over the taut nipples... Harry pushed against him, mewling and whispering Ron's name, until finally turning his head to look deeply into Ron's soul. Ron craned to kiss Harry's lips, swallowing the sighs falling out of them. He gripped Harry's warm, thick cock, pulled once, then again, and again... Ron thrust his hand for the last time, before cumming all over, shaking, and muttering Harry's name.

Ron curled up in a ball, as shivers rocked his body. He stared glossy-eyed out of the window, seeing nothing but green.


	7. The Zenith

**Chapter Rating: PG-13**

 

  
**Chapter 6: The Zenith**   


 

Harry rummaged through his bag, swearing like a trooper.

"Such sunshine," Billy rumbled into Harry's ear, pulling him closer. There was plenty of time before he had to open _Wallace_ , and Harry did not have to leave for hours. "Come 'ere."

"Not now!" Harry snarled, prying himself from Billy's arms. "I cannot believe it; I forgot to pack my Invisibility Cloak!"

"What's the problem? Yeh just pop home before leavin'," Billy shrugged. He threw himself on the bed, shoved his hands behind his neck, and stared at the ceiling.

Harry slumped on the edge of the bed, leaning on his knees. He had not told Billy the truth, even after spending the whole week with him. Neither did he want to tell it now, but he did not have a choice any more: it was essential to have the Cloak with him.

"I can't," he muttered between his teeth. "Ron is there."

"It's yer house, isn't it?" Billy reminded, sliding his bare toes under the hem of Harry's shirt.

"Still," Harry mumbled, massaging his temples. "I don't want to see him right now."

"Ye're havin' a row?"

"No. Well, kind of."

"Yeh think I should get the Cloak?" Billy drawled, counting Harry's vertebra with his toes.

Harry turned his head, looking pleadingly at Billy.

"Would you?"

"Well..." Billy said, tugging Harry by his belt loop with his toes. "First, yeh gimme some sugar."

Harry laughed aloud and crawled on top of Billy.

"That's blackmailing, you know," he said before grazing Billy's lips with his own. Then he leaned on his elbows, smirking. "What kind of sugar?"

Billy gave a short chortle. He spun them around, so that Harry was under him. Then he pushed Harry's legs apart and pinned his hands against the mattress.

"Yeh know, I'll have ta think it over."

"I'm sure you'll get it," Harry answered hoarsely, reaching up to kiss Billy properly.

 

Two hours later Billy was in a hurry. He had picked up the Cloak and almost bumped into Ron while rushing down the stairs. That ruddy lad! Strutting around in a strange house, naked as the day he was born; probably wishing that Harry had come home just then.

Billy gritted his teeth. Over and over again, he had tried to convince himself that he ought to trust Harry and Harry's own judgement, but without success. He was not an unreasonable man, but it was unbearable that Harry's old flame slept under the same roof with him — whether the lad was his friend or not. Billy had tried to reason with Harry immediately after the wedding, tried to explain how stupid it was to offer a room to Ron. But he might have talked to the walls for all he knew. 

At least, Harry did not want to spend time with Ron any more.

It tickled his curiosity to find out what the quarrel was about, but he did not want to ask. Harry would tell him when the time was right, or would not tell if it did not concern Billy. The situation was too good to pass, though, and Billy decided to take a day off as soon as Harry was back in the UK.

They would spend that day together, without the ruddy lad.

 

"Great haul," Remus said, smiling, as Harry got up to follow other Aurors exiting the conference room. Harry waved the hand that was not in a sling and smiled back.

The weekend had proven fruitful. Dolohov was finally captured, and due to a lucky coincidence, Harry had located the gravely ill Rodolphus Lestrange lingering in the vicinity.

Two down, Harry thought whilst walking across the Atrium. He yawned and scratched his broken arm. It had splintered when Dolohov blasted his cottage trying to escape. It would heal until morning, and according to the Healer, it would not leave a scar. However, Remus had insisted that Harry took the whole weekend off — at least to unwind and relax.

Usually, a day off was greeted with gratitude, but the situation being what it was, Harry would have liked to spend his days at work. He had piled up cases the whole week, covered others' shifts, and only stopped by at Billy's, bypassing his own home. Avoiding Ron had not helped, because during every single spare moment Harry's mind started to contemplate the dealings with his problematic lodger. On more than one occasion he had to stop himself from imagining what it would be like to kiss Ron.

Harry's slippery thoughts forced him to yearn for a simpler life; if he was not with Billy. If he was not afraid of rejection, or worse, to lower his shield just to be trampled down again. Ron had hurt him badly, and even though Harry now understood better why Ron had behaved as he had, it did not diminish his fear. It was simply dreadful to even think about giving in to a relationship which, by ending, had the power to crush his heart.

On the other hand, even though Harry enjoyed spending time with Billy, he was not as frightened to lose him. It was liberating, but at the same time, it felt like settling.

The green fire of the Floo Network swallowed Harry. He whirled around and around, minding the sore arm, until he stepped out of his own fireplace. First, he realised that the telly was on. Second, he saw Ron asleep on the sofa in front of the TV set. There was a mouth-watering smell of a well-done roast floating from the kitchen, and even in the dim light Harry could see that Ron had cleaned up the apartment.

He stared at Ron feeling guilty as sin. What kind of a friend was he?

The whole week he had been steering clear of Ron, but instead of being miffed about it, Ron got through all this trouble to welcome him home. Harry tugged his hair nervously, it all seemed so unfair. Ron had taken a huge step by coming to London and confronting himself honestly, just the way he was. The least Harry could do was to meet him in between.

Harry promised silently, while covering Ron with a blanket, that he would be a better friend in the future. Even if it meant that he had to be careful of his own thoughts.

 

Harry woke up late. By the time he got downstairs, Ron had already left. It was a sunny morning, and Harry hummed while preparing breakfast. Cooking was a dear hobby of his, but lately he hadn't had time to fiddle with food.

Just as coffee was done, Billy padded downstairs, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Morning," Harry said, pecking him on the cheek. Billy grunted, heading straight to the coffee machine. Harry thought nothing of it; Billy was never too talkative before the first cuppa.

"The new lad is comin' today, to training," Billy said, after emptying his cup. "Gotta be there earlier."

"Who is it?" Harry asked, looking up from the Prophet.

"Some young lad, can't remember the name. It's Maggie who found 'im," Billy shrugged.

"Okay," Harry muttered, continuing with the paper. After a few minutes, Billy got up. Harry did not realise what was happening, until Billy headed to the front door.

"What? Already?" he cried out.

"Do ye see the time?" Billy asked, sounding fed up with the subject. Harry let him don a pullover on, before grabbing his hand to see the time. It was after noon.

"Merlin! We took our time this morning."

"Aye," Billy noted with a clipped tone. He tied his messy hair, while Harry leant against the wall keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Billy.

"Are we still going to Diagon Alley tomorrow?" he asked as Billy was done with his grooming. Billy turned and stepped closer.

"Sure," he said, kissing Harry straight on the lips. "Can't wait the see Fred and Hermione again."

 

The treadmill had barely started, when the front door slammed close. Harry heard hurried steps passing by the door on top of the stairs, but did not stop running; he knew it was Ron. Presumably Ron knew he was down here too, as the treadmill was not the quietest one. But after running for half an hour and being disturbed not even once, Harry realised this was not the case. The curiosity got the better of him and he shut down the machine, and went to search for Ron, wiping the sweat off his brow.

The guest room door was closed. Harry hesitated, before rapping it with his knuckles. There was a crash behind the door which made Harry jump back, but after hearing Ron's loud cursing, he relaxed.

Finally Ron opened the door. His face turned guilty as soon as he saw Harry. His rosy cheeks and ruffled hair made Harry wonder whether he had just woken up from a nap.

"Hi," Harry said, smiling timidly. "Um, did I wake you?"

Ron shuffled nervously, glancing back at the room. Harry's eyes followed him, and he noticed the rumpled bed spread. Then, a very familiar smell reached his nostrils, and he had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.

"Oh, well, maybe I should come later?" he asked tentatively. Ron's jaw dropped, and the corners of his mouth started to twitch. Harry furrowed his brow. It took a moment for him to grasp what he had said.

"I'd say that's up to you," Ron quipped, roaring with laughter.

Harry laughed so hard he had to grip the door handle in order to stay on his feet. He guffawed long and hard, and there were tears flowing from his eyes. Ron giggled on the floor; he had dropped on his bum.

"Remember when we were going to take a shower after Quidditch practise, and interrupted Dean instead?" Ron gasped, after settling down enough to breathe in.

Harry nodded and chortled again, massaging his sore abs.

"And when I walked in on you in the Gryffindor dorm room," Ron continued, grinning mischievously.

Harry remembered. He had been sixteen. He had finally become aware that he was thinking of Ron more than as his best friend and was just imagining how it would feel to touch Ron. The fantasy-Ron had kept him in such a tight hold that he had not realised it was actually the real Ron talking. After the happenstance, they avoided each other for a while, making Hermione wonder if they had had a row.

Harry let out a nervous giggle.

"Oh, come on, it was ages ago," Ron snorted, spotting Harry's lame reaction. "Besides, you _just_ walked in on me... Well, not really, but almost."

"Yeah, right," Harry admitted, forcing himself not to wonder what Ron had been thinking while jacking off. "That's true."

Ron's gaze wandered towards Harry's sweaty t-shirt, and Harry squared his shoulders.

"I was running on the treadmill while you came."

Ron sniggered, but sobered up quickly. "Sounds like a good idea. Did you finish already?"

"I was just warming up," Harry said. "But the treadmill will be free soon."

"Okay."

As Ron started to get up from the floor, Harry straightened his arm to help him up. Ron's warm palm tingled against Harry's, and he drew his hand back as soon as Ron was on his feet. Ron gave Harry a strange look.

"I hurt my hand on Saturday," Harry explained, not really lying.

"Is it serious?" Ron asked worriedly, checking on the faded welts crisscrossing Harry's arm.

"Well, yeah, but the healers did a great job with it. I had to wear the sling until this morning; it still aches from time to time."

"Should you really be training already?"

"Nah, I'll just skip the weights," Harry said dismissively.

The worried crease between Ron's eyebrows did not disappear, and Harry huffed annoyed.

"It's not the first time I got hurt doing my job. Or playing Quidditch. I'm not made of glass, you know?"

Now Ron's face relaxed into a grin, and he nodded. "Right on. I'll come down soon."

"Again?" Harry quipped, turning towards the stairs, and behind him, Ron burst into laughter.

 

WWN played rhythmic music. Harry was facing the wall, doing his abs. Following Ron's work out was not even remotely unpleasant, but doing sit-ups with a hard on was difficult. Also, Harry was fairly sure he should not feel that way about his friend.

"I'm gonna miss this cellar," Ron grunted, stretching his legs. "Oh, I guess I haven't told you yet. I signed a lease today."

"What?" Harry exclaimed, falling on his back. He looked at Ron upside down just as he was drying his face into the hem of his t-shirt, revealing his stomach glistening with sweat. Harry swallowed, before averting his eyes.

"Well, I went to see one flat with Cal, and it was so good I took it right away."

"Cal..." Harry mumbled to himself, squinting his eyes. Ron heard him, though, and stared at Harry like he could not believe his eyes.

"It's not possible that _you_ don't remember Cal," he snorted.

"Of course I remember him," Harry said quickly. "I just didn't know that you keep in touch with him. Is he still working at the _Bollocks_?"

"Not any more. He didn't go back after I left. Actually, Cal starts today in a new place; blimey, what was it called...?"

Harry got up and turned to face Ron.

"Don't tell me it's _Wallace_?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, that's the one!" Ron affirmed, and then noticed how Harry's face had fallen. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, except it's Billy's."

Ron stared at Harry for two seconds then burst into laughter. Harry grinned, too, but decided it was best to stretch his abs before laughing again.

"What comes around goes around," Ron muttered sarcastically, sitting down on the bench, grasping his water bottle.

Harry did not answer. He was not sure if there had been anything more than friendship between Ron and Cal. Anything was possible, considering how easy it had been to coax Ron into sex while being Cal. Harry started to blush while remembering _that night_ , and quickly shoved the memory aside.

"When are you moving out?" he asked, getting up.

"The day after tomorrow," Ron said, rising to his feet, too. "But if you want, I can come to water you plants every week if I can also use the gym."

Harry chortled, even though the words stabbed his insides. So soon.

"Feel free," he said finally.

Ron grinned, and took a step forward, towards Harry.

Harry's heart missed a beat. His nostrils twitched as the smell of fresh sweat and sheer masculinity drifted in. Ron's body seemed to radiate heat, even over the two feet of air between them. Harry licked his lips deliberately, and Ron's eyes focused immediately on the erotic movement of the tongue.

The song ended, and another one began. This time the rhythm was slow and pulsing. Harry stared at Ron's blue eyes, which were staring back at him with dilated pupils. The look on his eyes warmed Harry's belly, and he drew in a slow, savouring breath. His every cell was longing to get closer to Ron, and he was already leaning in, in order to take the fateful step.

Then, Ron dropped his gaze at his toes and cleared his throat.

"I think a shower would be a good idea."

"What?" Harry stammered. Had Ron really said what he thought he'd said? And before thinking it over, Harry was already continuing: "Together?"

Ron flinched, and the movement made Harry curse under his breath. What the hell had he been thinking of?

"It's meant for two, but..." Ron hesitated, glancing at the stairs behind Harry. "Still, maybe it's best if we take turns?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Harry agreed quickly. "You go first; I'll stay to clean up a bit."

Harry turned his back and began mechanically _Scourgifying_ the sweaty benches and chalk covered bars. After a moment, he heard Ron's steps going up the stairs. When the door slammed shut, Harry glanced behind him. Confirming that he was alone at last, Harry sighed deeply.

 

Even through the loud sound of the blender, Harry heard the bathroom door close. He did not turn around, just put two large glasses on the counter and filled them with brownish drink.

"Shake coming!" he yelled, sending one of the glasses upstairs.

"Thanks!" Ron answered, before closing his room.

After taking a shower, Harry barricaded himself in his study, wrestling the reports that were due ages ago. He got so wrapped up with work that he lost track of time, not surfacing until after midnight, when Billy knocked lightly on the door, and entered without waiting for an answer.

In their bed, Billy fell asleep instantly, but Harry's thoughts turned again to Ron and the feeling he had felt during those few, long seconds. Billy had not asked how his day was, and Harry had not told anything. Nevertheless, the guilt was heavy on Harry: not because of what had happened, but because of what he had hoped to happen. Not once before had Harry even considered of cheating on Billy. Not even if his working partner Dave had made it crystal clear how welcome the idea would be with him.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. If he wished hard enough, maybe things would be better in the morning. Perhaps he would wake up beside Billy, and there would not be anyone else in the house. Maybe his life would be peaceful again, and he would not have to wrestle with his conscience any more.

But even as he thought of it, there was a small, nagging voice in his mind, wondering if he was totally honest with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About Harry's work buddy, Dave. He was supposed to be just a name, but then he started to appear everywhere — which means that you'll be seeing more of him later! I have to admit, this was a curious story to write. I have very seldom used OC's, before WG and TICTAC, and now there are more than one of them wandering around!
> 
>  


End file.
